


little bittersweet stars

by rischaa



Series: expeditions thru universes [jarchie] [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Childhood Memories, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Unrequited Love, Weddings, tea: jarchie day 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-10-11 16:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rischaa/pseuds/rischaa
Summary: “If it’s not too much to ask, can you defy the laws of the universe and us, Betty and I, um- have our strings knotted together?”He breathes, a little bit and it feels cold.“Anything for you, Archie.”-day 2 for jarchie ship week 2017 | prompt: soulmate! au// the [Red String of Fate] soulmate! au where jughead's in pain as he cutstheirstring, but he does it anyway, because the man he loves asked him





	

**Author's Note:**

> bringing this fic back for the wonderful #jarchieshipweek2017 day number 2!!  
> -  
> pls enjoy! | unbeta'd  
> -  
> 

**_“I think one of the cruelest realities of their romance is that Dean’s incapable of straightforwardly confessing his feelings to someone who can only understand things in complete literal terms.”_ **

**_\- caffeinedeathwarrior on tumblr_ **

* * *

_`the soulmate! au in where this happens:_

_The Red String of Fate exists, and only some people have the ability to see the strings, and these people can actually cut strings and knot other people’s strings in to alter the soulmate laws. Your best friend’s wedding is tomorrow and they know you can see the string. They ask you to help them defy the laws of the universe and help them be with the person they love even though they know that’s not their soulmate. You know they love each other so much so you help them, even though the person your best friend’s marrying/your best friend is your soulmate.`_

* * *

 It’s a lonely world when you’re standing in an empty space with bundles and knots of red twine. They’re a heavy burden on his mind and it’s not like he has to share the pain with. No one needed to know that, but he had told someone once. Jughead didn’t expect him to remember; he always forgets everything anyway. He was told once by his mother to never _ever_ tell, but Archie Andrews was something, no, _someone_ he let in and had told.

He shouldn’t have told him; because now he’s to cut the threads that connected them.

Theirs shone with a bright red glow indicating it was his string connected to someone. It created this profound feeling buried within the depths of Jughead’s caged heart. He doesn’t like letting anyone in but god, ever since he met the bruised and wide grinned boy pushing away the bullies at school; that changed. 

His ginger hair and his warm hazel eyes were something so average yet so different. They reminded him of the warmth he once had within his grasp. Now that that was gone, he only had Archie left to provide him that. Archie was his safe haven and he lost that too; he keeps losing everyone. It’s an endless cycle of pain, the numbing of his chest was part of the routine for him.

Jughead repairs their string every time’ each tangle being carefully unraveled and being straightened. Archie doesn’t need to know that he does that or that his string leads to him. In fact, he was fine, all alone. 

All alone and he had just gotten him back too; only to lose him for eternity.

* * *

He remembers when they went to watch the stars. Just the Andrews and the Jones family on a simple road trip. The music always switched from the classic Elvis to the Beatles then to the terrible country that Archie insisted they put on. Jughead remembers Jellybean gurgling with (very possible anger just like Jughead did) towards the Archie’s genre of music.

The way the wind would pass by them with a very loud whooshing sound; and when Fred Andrews would stop Archie from sticking his head out the window was burnt at the back of his mind. Jughead remembers Archie collecting pebbles for them to throw across the Bon Tempe Lake. They throw it, counting the number of times it skips across.

He lets Archie win, because he knows it’s always worth it when he sees Archie’s smile.

That night, they stayed awake, not using the set-up telescope Jughead borrowed from Betty. The grass was seemingly warm and a little damp and the tips of the blade tickled his skin. He could hear the imminent and loud sounds the crickets made by the lake.

“That’s Corona-uh wait, Corona Borealis, right there, Juggie!”

“Wow, I never knew that, Arch!” he says every word dripping with sarcasm breaking into laughter soon after.

“Oh, come on, humor me Jug!”

Archie would point at the random stars and babble about how they were so beautiful. As much as he loved to listen to Archie’s rambles, his voice had just faded out as he watched Archie’s eyes twinkle brighter than the night sky’s stars. They hung above them like they were the only that mattered that night.

They weren’t; not to Jughead at the least. To him, their red glowing string and two boys laying on the damp grass were moments that mattered the most. He’s only six when he realizes that maybe he’s falling for the beautiful freckles faced redhead of Riverdale. Jughead Jones keeps it a secret, thinking it’s just a damn crush he could get rid of. 

Six and a half and the feeling’s still there.

* * *

“Come on, Juggie! Tell him!”

“And exactly what are you going on about?”

She points at Archie laughing as Vegas pushed him down the snow. It makes him smile and almost forget that the days were counting. He’s holding on to what’s being left in his life, just pieces of the threads that connected to him, a seer of the fates. Jellybean and his mother- they were…

“Tell him! You like him, right?”

“He’s Archie, of course everyone likes him Jellybean,” he ruffles her hair which results in her pushing him forcefully towards Archie and Vegas. He falls into the snow with a soft crunch and he smiles widely.

“Hey, Jelly! I’m bringing you in too,” he pulls her before she has the chance to run away from their demise.

“Aaah!”

Archie laughs and it rings so clearly in his ears and his heart flutters even though it shouldn’t. It hasn’t gone fluttering crazy nor has it been beating so fast since… no one. He liked no one else and the fact that Archie made him feel this way scared him. But that laugh- god, if every laugh he heard went like that, the world would definitely be a better place. It was so quick, so full of joy and happiness. Something that Jughead wanted, nevertheless to say that, he’s probably never going to get that.

_Never._

Then he feels cold and dense snow being thrown at him. Jughead realizes that they’ve gotten up and started ganging up on him with snowballs. He quickly stands up and sees Archie with a group of snowballs on both hands along with Jellybean. Vegas ran around the both of them, tongue stuck out.

Jughead breathes and takes in the surroundings, trying to grasp this very moment, hoping he doesn’t forget. Every second and every move creating a copy in his mind and although it hurt to admit that these times would end so soon, he did so anyway. He wants this to be part of the memories he’ll get to relive when times get hard.

The string glows such an innocent red in the midst of the white falling snow. He clenches his hand and looks at Jellybean’s string and it disappears far, far away. He doesn’t want to lose her. Or Archie for the matter.

He throws the snowball right at Archie’s face and smiles. Jughead tries so hard to convince himself he’s not in this state. He doesn’t want to like him or be attracted to him. It’s nearly impossible to be this attracted to him. His eyes, they twinkle so bright with joy and his nose, a faint red from the freezing cold. The way his hair is almost in a frozen state and the way he just has no care for what’s happening but for the only moment happening now.

Jellybean has this wide grin and he wants it to last. Archie’s aura of joy, he wants to bask within it. Jellybean knows and so does he. He’s a seer after all. These things lead to stupidity, these _fickle_ and _stupid, very stupid_ feelings within his melting heart.

 _“I’m not in love,”_ he whispers to the passing wind as another ball of snow hits him.

He lies, yet again. It hurts to admit it.

* * *

Jughead’s heart drops even though he knows. The world blurs and bleeds into this white space and he sees her string distancing far away and yet there they sat chatting with cold cups of coffee. His hand reaches for his nonexistent heart hidden behind his sleeve. Her eyes light up when he talks. He’s heard of stories, both through books and people, couples asking a seer like him to cut their string connecting them to another person.

He wants to hate the Non-bonds, but looking at Archie and the girl he lived to next door, he really can’t. They’re so invested with the relationship’s feeling, that it almost looked like they were in fact, soulmates.

It really hurts.

“They’re not soulmates, believe it or not,” someone whispers seething with anger and jealousy; and it’s a girl.

“Who are you?”

“Veronica,” she pauses to look at Betty, “Lodge.”

“The new girl, right, okay. How exactly do you know that?”

She sighs almost as if she was exhausted and brings a falling strand of her black hair behind her ear. She’s pretty and sophisticated, not from Riverdale and it shows. Her eyes had this cold and stern look and she wore a dark colored dress that basked into the warm cherry red neon lights of Pop’s. She had this sickening matte lipstick smeared on her lips but there was something about her. _Veronica…_

“Seers. Back in New York, I uh- asked this seer in my school and she said it led to an ‘Elizabeth Cooper’? I tracked her down because well, I really wanted to find out who _she_ was and well, there she sits next to quite a pretty redhead,” she bites her lip as she points at Archie.

“Back off the redhead,” he means to say it as calmly as possible; but somehow seeing Betty and Archie has stacked upon the large amount of pent up feelings since he’s found out he was connected to Archie Andrews. It’s a mistake to have that tone as the words rolled of off his mouth.

She smiles almost apologetically and sighs and her lips turning into a thin line.

“You’re a seer,” she whispers carefully with shock coating each syllable.

“Leave.”

Jughead looks at her pinky and sees it glowing a morose color of dark blue and a clashing yellow. He wants to laugh, the world really had something against them. Someone who wants to find their soulmate but it would lead to a very strong unrequited tendency for even loving the raven. That was just plain cruel. Then there was his; it was fading color of red and inching with a glow of yellow.

“I’m friends with her and I hate how much I’m falling for her. It’s like she’s so- “

He interrupts and frowns at her, “Perfect? As if. Fucking feelings.”

_You lied, mom. You said my soulmate would love me too. So, why does it hurt?_

“You ever told him?”

“I promised her,” an image of his mother comes to mind, “not to. Never. That’s stupid.”

 _You’re stupid. **i know.**_

Veronica seems to want to say something but she closes her parted mouth. As she glances up the ceiling, he knows she’s holding it in. The damn truth that hurt so much. The truth they all wanted to avoid if they ever found out. The truth of someone not loving them. Jughead knows it too well. Too _damn_ well. He leaves Pop’s fingering the invisible string and takes a deep breath once he’s outside.

_“Love. Fucking petty love.”_

Jughead accepts the feeling even though he’s losing him in this simple game of tug and war.

* * *

It’s two am and it’s freezing cold. There were no more blankets to cover the bruised skin that never healed properly. He had left all of blankets and pillows back at the falling Twilight Drive-In. It’s really cold, but he’s getting the hang of it. For now, he’ll deal with it. He just wants to have some sleep.

_I’m right here, you’re safe, my little Forsythe._

He closes his eyes and the image of his mother comes to mind for some reason. Her voice reminded him of soft cotton pillows and blankets and hot chocolate on a cold day like this. She used to hum to a soft tune right after she told stories about her favorite topic: soulmates.

_“They’re really special, Forsythe, the ones who see the red string.”_

He wished that she was lying at all costs. Her words used to be little movie reels of memories he loved to relive, but somehow, that’s changed. When they left, they were replaced with the bright amounts of blinding memories of just him and Archie. They kept his hopes up even for a single second or so. 

But he doesn’t love him. He refuses to believe that he loves the damned redhead because they’re _just_ ‘friends’. He knows they’re connected but that meant nothing to him if Archie didn’t see that. Every moment they shared, it was purely platonic and meant for friendship. If it wasn’t, he didn’t know what the blips of yellows shining through their string meant.

_Yellow, Jughead, remember? It means unrequited love or platonic friendship. You should know this. You’re a god damned seer!_

Jughead doesn’t remember when the blips of yellow started appearing. But he remembers the time when Archie had fallen asleep on his shoulder in his dad’s car as they watched a random picking of a movie on the dusty shelf. Archie wasn’t exactly per se asleep. He was slurring his lame pick-up lines with that smile.

The sky was still so recognizable; the fog nearby and the dripping blue-grey hues coloring their surroundings. The night’s moon was rising and the stars were laid out as a map.

“Look, Juggie. It’s _our_ Corona Borealis.”

At this point, the movie has come to a halt, they were just teenagers sneaking bottles of light beer as they watched the stars, not bothering about the test the morning after. Corona Borealis… Jughead can’t believe that he still remembers. When they were kids, they had stolen this book from the library about stars, he still had it somewhere in the drive-in. Archie loved stars so much, he decided that one of the best stories about stars was the _Corona Borealis._

It had become theirs when Archie called him the Ariadne of the story and he, the Dionysus. It was humorous, really, but they called it theirs. Their very own story written by the stars, not really. Not that it really mattered, but he just made him the Ariadne because he wore a crown, it’s real name, _The Northern Crown._

“Yeah, it is.”

He looks up to see that really is the Corona Borealis. It’s not really not that noticeable, but it’s there.

_Their star, the Corona Borealis or The Northern Crown._

“I can weave the stars to change everything, but we wouldn’t want that, right, Arch?”

_T-the string? It’s…_

“Mhmm-Shakespeare, right?”

It was getting cold and as Archie sunk down in the seat in a comfortable position; Jughead felt the drowsy yawn part his mouth. He looks at Archie, his freckles like constellations of countless stars then their string on his pinky. Jughead sees their string turning into a red blur as his eyelids were dropping down heavily. He smiles as he falls into Archie’s chest, his scent very calming; the smell of citrus and wet dirt from football and that hindered scent of beer and grease.

 _“The fault is not in our stars, Arch.”_  

He loves him; this time not denying it. It’s warm, finally, it always is when he thinks of him.

* * *

“I mean, you’re welcome anytime, but god, call me first.”

“Sorry. I was driving nearby and I stopped by just because,” he sounds so exasperated and tired. 

The coffee maker pinged loudly and barefoot, he hurried towards it. The linoleum tiles were cold; they sent chills down his back making him pull the sleeves of grey sweater down his palms. He poured a cup for Archie and dropped two cubes in. He had always like it that way anyway. Even though he insisted to everyone that he’d only want one cube of that damned sugar, he always liked it sweeter.

His fingers trembled as he brought the cup of hot and freshly brewed coffee towards him. Archie was looking out the window; the city lights entering his room and illuminating the dim yellow incandescence ambiance of his apartment.

“How’d you sleep last night?”

Jughead bites his lip. He hasn’t slept for so long. In fact, he just sat on the cold floor with dread washing over him as his eyes skimmed over the creamy white invitation. It had these paisleys at the edges that Archie had extreme abhorrence for, saying they were _“Jug, they’re to mature! Flowers are fine, but paisleys suck bad!”_

He laughs at the entering thought inwardly. He feels a yawn itch at the back of his throat; he suppresses it.

“Is sweet, Jug. You know I like it wi- “

“With two sugar cubes, always. No, shut your face. End of story.”

Archie laughs for a second or two and Jughead notices the crinkles his eyes make when they shut close. He notices the eye bags under his eyes. Looks like he wasn’t the only one who hasn’t slept for a while. Jughead let the previous question sink in the deep silence even though the redhead wasn’t even in the right place to ask so.

Looking at him, hurt like crazy. It was like picking up shards of broken glass unintentionally; and they poked the skin of your hands, soon bleeding for what seemed like eternity. Seeing that he was so far away, drifting, yet him sitting there with a cup of coffee- he was what seemed like home. Home…  he knows the seams of what made a home; it didn’t have to be a building; it could be memories or someone. And it would always be something you found yourself drawn to- drawn to its sweet sickly warmth enveloped through every second, through every feature.

“That was Shakespeare, right? That night?”

Jughead’s heartbeat skips seconds over seconds; almost like the friction moving ripples the pebbles created when they threw them across the lake. Memories laid heavily upon him, he didn’t even want to remember the pain that was brought along with those memories. The stinging pain every time it played like the film reels in the drive-in. He felt like throwing up; and that was quite ironic.

If he remembered correctly, that was… that was around eleven years ago. Those good eleven years ago, when they were fifteen year olds with terrible decisions and stressed out lives on the edge of the ridge. Out of all the memories they had which Jughead wished he had forgotten, he had remembered. His lips parted to say something but it wouldn’t come out. A lump of words was wedged on the way out and every time he tried, they were just a tumble of syllables falling over each other.

“Y-yeah,” he finally manages to get out and it almost sounds like a shuddering reply.

His heart throbs faster and heavily as seconds passed by. That was so long ago and yet… he remembered. He had whispered Cassius’ line so softly and he was so sure he had fallen asleep or at least drunk enough to not remember. His hand wouldn’t stop shaking resulting in clenching his entire hand, still trembling.

_Breathe. Don’t look at the damn string._

He takes a quick glance at it, it’s a bright marigold yellow and he feels the spread of the numbing start from his heart and the shaking starts. He bites his lip wishing it’d bleed already. It latches onto him like a parasite and it spreads like wildfire onto every nerve ending he has and they feel like tiny needles piercing through and the hitching of continuous breathing.

_Floor. Archie. Couch. Coffee. Light. Breathe. Bracelets, all three of them. The string. Sounds? Shit, fuck. Breathe. Okay, that lavender air spray and the scent of coffee. Breathe, agh, have I actually eaten anything for the past twenty-four hours?_

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, just- how’d you figure it out?”

 _Right, I haven’t even eaten breakfast._

“I  _do_ remember shit from our English class, y'know. Cassius was talking bout fate when he said that exact line. Stars-" he had this starry eyed pensive look on that Jughead's eyes couldn't stop gazing at, "That's actually kinda of really beautiful. So you can cut strings right?"

“Yeah, I could if I wanted.”

“If it’s not too much to ask, can you defy the laws of the universe and us, Betty and I, um- have our strings knotted together?”

He breathes, a little bit and it feels cold.

“Anything for you, Archie.”

The words choked every part of him. It felt so forced and it choke him. He smiles and that’s enough for him. They linger and the smile feels heavy on his lips but it looks so effortless for Archie. He was so pretty and genuine… he deserved more than the coward sitting inches away. He deserved her, the independence and the beauty she carried with grace.

When he leaves, he just can’t do it any longer.  He can’t keep grounding himself. No one was here to see him suffer anyway. It was fine that way, always for Jughead. He screams but no voice comes out, just the straining of his vocal chords. The lingering scent of sickening cinnamon and coffee was suffocating. It almost made him gag.

_You moron. Why didn’t you say it?_

“I love him. I love him. I can’t- “

Everything crashes into a dull blur and cracking anxiety on the verge of being lost.

* * *

He closes his eyes before the simple phrase forcefully slips out of his tongue like needles; a pained whisper being reeled in by the calm wind mocking him. His hands are trembling, but no one sees that except for the raven standing next to the bride. He knows she knows it hurts to do so… and yet she smiles.

_Do this for him. Just do it. It’ll be fi- okay._

He stares at their string and it glows an angry red at him with the dandelion’s yellow overpowering it. Jughead takes a glance at Archie and his smile shines towards her. Something deep stirs from the snowed in heart of his just like the wedding’s theme color and it’s not pretty- it’s dark and numb. Betty smiles back and it stings, the jealous bubbles, levels rising.

He closes his eyes, memories flashing right before his eyes and it pours through the open cracks of his heart. The curves of his lips lift upward a little bit, strained and as he brings it closer to the edge of being cut, he feels the fear take over him, wanting to control his every move.

It snips, the red string’s color pales and droops, still connected to him. The time feels like it’s been dragging on, every second seemed like hours and every minute, days. His movements felt heavy; like bag of sands weighing every move he made, so unwilling. He feels drained, and his breathing hitches before Veronica’s string also falls into the disappearing void of blur and disturbance. It’s after the string is knotted that he feels the urge to vomit and his head turn and spin.

Then he’s pulled into a hug and his warm cinnamon scent overwhelms the urge of the drops to escape. His hot breath hits his ears and the back of his nape covered by his crumple collar; with a wrinkled maroon tie not put on properly. Jughead seeps within this very second, he takes every detail of Archie in and his words to follow with.

“Thank you,” his voice sounds like it’s about to crack into tears of joy.

“Anything for you, Archie.”

_I love you. I really do._

It’s over for too soon, the touches leave invisible imprints of this memory to haunt him. He quickly tries to ground himself; his eyes search around and his hands reach for the hidden bracelets under his tuxedo. It really doesn’t help when he sees them kiss sloppily and Betty smiles at everyone and he sees Veronica start crying. It reminds him that she must have noticed it happening. The sudden loss of feeling in a split second, the build-up of strong anxiety with racing thoughts, and the quick draining of their soul’s being.

They wave at the people and Jughead closes his eyes, sighs and looks up at the bright _ciel_ with vivid hues of orange, red and yellow. He feels sick. He holds it in.

_It’s okay. You’re okay._

Later at the reception, after his terrible ‘best man’ speech and sixteen glasses of champagne, he’s pulled away from the crowd and the party by Veronica. She has this lost and pent up look written all over her face. The edge of her lips is smeared with matte red and her hair put up in a ponytail earlier was let down disheveled in every way possible.

“Why’d you, do it?”

“Do what?” he raises his seventeenth glass of champagne and smirks, “Drink all the champagne? It’s sweet and it _is_ free y, know?”

“You’re doing this now? Are you fucking serious?”

“Doing what, exactly? Honestly, Ronnie, it’s not like I just shagged some guy somewhere; to get rid of the loss of a soulmate that never even loved you,” he doesn’t mean to hurt her, she’s hurt enough already as it is with losing Betty. It wasn’t even intended for her.

“We just kissed, for god’s sake! The hell with you, Jughead! Look at you,” she turns her face away from him and sighs exasperated, “Just tell me, why’d you, do it?! Are you-” she shakes her head, tying her hair up, wisps of hair strands falling, “- are you even okay?”

He circles the almost empty flute glass containing tasteless champagne and lets himself revel into the starless sky falling heavily upon his life. It seemed so lonely without all the stars with just the moon to shine upon them. Everything beginning to drain of color except for the remnants of crystal memories burnt within their minds; only for them to haunt their sleepless nights.

“Oh, I’m great actually, Ronnie. It’s a great occasion for someone who saw it actually happen right before their eyes. It was wonderful to see them kiss right in front of me and I lived,” he downed the rest of the bland drink.

“You were trembling. Stop lying.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of sarcasm, Ronnie? It has seven letters; should be easy for someone like you to spell, really,” he deadpans with a smirk, once again and somehow smirking now seems to be draining all his energy. Covering all these damn emotions were on the edge of bursting and it took all he had to keep that mask on.

“I- uh, you-they,” her eyes stare at him calmly and very collectedly as she crosses her arms, “Why’d you say ‘yes’ to cutting the string? I mean he’s your sou- “

“He’s not mine. Never was,” Jughead interrupts her; takes a deep breath as he shut his eyes for a few seconds or so, “I was fine, okay?” 

“You’re not. First off, tell me you didn’t hesitate doing it or that you could actually breathe. Second, you were shaking right after the ceremony and drank champagne to drown it all out. Third, tell me you actually meant everything you said in that damn speech,” her voice gets louder as she points every single one of them out, point by point.

“Shut up. Just-” he closes his eyes then quickly blinking them open, “- shut, the fuck up, Lodge.”

“You said ‘yes’!”

“Fine! I said yes, okay? He came to me last week, asked me and I said yes! Do I regret my agreement to it? Yes, of course I did-” he kicks the stupid wet mowed grass and groans that almost sounds like he’s in pain, “I did it because I- I spent years refusing to believe that he was soulmate. I was becoming broken and I didn’t even realize- fuck! Fuck this all!”

“Jughe- “

“No, shut the fuck up! Betty was only your friend since high school. Archie was mine since we were kids and do you know how much it hurts to cut your own string? You didn’t- you felt the loss of your soulmate but seeing it fall and knotting it to somebody else’s? Why’d I fucking, do it? I love the fucking idiot, that’s what.”

The world blurs and he digs his nails into his palm hoping for it to clear. Every word felt like pins dancing on his tongue burning through his throat. It felt heavy, his energy depleting as he explained.

“I love him so much I’d do anything for him,” he repeats, his voice on the brink of cracking. 

“You’re crying.” 

“No, I’m not.”

It’s quiet, so sudden. The breaking of the fragile ice and piece by piece and it takes minutes to register that she’s telling truth to his face. He becomes aware of the façade finally falling and right in front of Veronica Lodge too. The surroundings around him become as glassy as the tears blink away from his eyelashes.

Jughead turns away from her view refusing to break down like this in front of her. He doesn’t speak; the sobs and screams that usually accompany the tears are forced down in a lump of needles poking harshly at his throat. Everything starts becoming so numb that he digs his nails into his wrists as he bites his lip.

“Stop.” 

 _Stop? What the fuck? Now, that was funny. Stop the numbing?_  

He rubs the tears away and the skin burns most likely leaving reddish streaks everywhere. Everything was burning, his eyes felt like they were on fire, his vocal chords doused with hot kerosene and his body’s nerves burnt to crisp. Everything was in pain and he laughs then abruptly stopping

“Just stop already. Look at you, mocking me and then you cry over losing Archie? Ha- that’s pathetic even for you. You’re not Jughead.”

“You never knew me from the first place, Lodge.” 

Jughead leaves, the soft music as the people danced leaving a bad as he passed by his chair and got his tux. He slung it on his back and looked at the looming grass as he exited the venue walking his way through the empty night shimmering with street lights. He tries to convince himself he doesn’t love him, but even the world’s too smart for that.

The world was on his side, he thinks, just for a single moment of time and space. The thought of him makes him smile as he kicked the invisible dust on the pavements. 

The tears fall as he laughs at the nonexistent stars of their endless night sky. 

* * *

The night falls heavily and slowly like black pudding on the toppling buildings of blinking lights. It’s too repetitive. The numbing has become so normal and the sound of the keys echoing in the empty living room. The cold, very cold linoleum tiles and the sound of the whirring coffee machine.

He pushes the falling reading glasses up the bridge of his nose hoping it won’t slide down yet again. He swallowed, re-reading the words typed onto the document. It was horrible, the descriptions were lacking and so were his usage of sarcasm. It no longer dripped with overwhelming power like it did from a few chapters he’s written before. He bites his lip wishing it’d bleed. To bleed for the pain.

Cuts, he wished he had the courage to make them to take over the numbing crawling up his nerve ends. To whisper away the voices that sang mockeries during midnights. He sighs exhausted, slams the lid of his laptop and cursed out loudly.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Just forget about him! For fuck’s sake, it isn’t that hard!_

He takes a deep breath as he downs the overly too sweet cold coffee. When the mug hits the table, there’s a loud click that resonates within the apartment. It’s loud; the clinking of keys heard from the other side. The keys are hitting over each other, clanging and not the right key. The keys sound like they’re shaking; it makes his heart jump for a second, scared.

It’s so familiar; the way he’d open the damn door. He’d fumble opening it every time but this time there seemed to be a sense

_It’s him. Wha- it’s like midnight, what the actua- Why now?_

“Archie,” it comes as a whisper, so soft only to be heard for his ears.

Jughead stands there, his mind racing with cars of delicate thoughts in his waterfall-like mind. The door finally opens; revealing Archie with his dark ginger hair sticking out on every end and his clothes wrinkled. He was breathing hard; his hand holds on the side of the wall and he looks down.

Jughead runs. Everything feels so light for once and he reaches in time only for Archie to grab his shoulder and land on his chest with a soft thud. Jughead feels him try to regain his grip but fails to do so. Archie finally gives up to which Jughead helps him to stand; his arm dangerously supporting him. He manages to drag Archie and they both collapse on the suede couch.

It’s so heavy. So, heavy yet so light. The light was terribly blinding even for its lowest intensity.  His breathing felt heavy as if soul was weighing on him. Something deep, so concrete and lost in the whipping darkness.

Archie smelt like beer fused with cinnamon and sweet apples like his car. Jughead knew him all too well to bring him a glass of water instead of the usual coffee. In the state, he was in right now, he’d most likely stay over for the damned night. The night was always dangerous, the creeping secrets streaming over beds and the loud noises the people use as cover ups for their broken selves in the city.

Red dusted _their_ living room. Red eyes from crying, maroon red scabs from scratching wrists, red hair unkempt and that broken graceful string starting to unravel still glowing red. A bright pretty red illuminating the empty invisible space to Archie. He looks at Archie, the white light from the television casting shadows over his eyelashes and his freckles made of constellation’s stardust.

He hadn’t even noticed that his television was left open only muted. Archie had turned it on with this casual drunk smile. Jughead wants to kiss those lips that create that smile. It’s still the same, so carefree, not giving any fucks and just smiling as if the person he was looking at was _his_ world. Jughead wants to kiss them away, to feel the softness against his. He wants him to stop smiling like that. Those smiles were meant for _her_ , that girl with blonde hair and wit.

“Jughead,” it sounds like a whisper meant just for him, a small piece of the world carved out for the both of them, a friendship to be frozen down on history.

“You remind me a lot like Clementine, y’know.” 

“You’re _Clementine,_ ” Jughead retorts.

“Shut up, I’m not. I can be Joel, you be Clementine.”

“I like that about you-” they come out differently, but it’s close enough to the three words, “I still hate you though,” then he laughs and runs his fingers through Archie’s ginger hair.

“You’re warm,” he changes the subject quickly.

It’s so red and warm. Archie was warm and he was enveloped with the aura of red. His eyes were made of glass containing whiskey, he swears. Every time he looks at it, it’s like the rays of sunlight shining through a glass of honey whiskey. It was so beautiful. Then he had those freckles: those freckles he could make constellations of _their_ stars over and over again.

For once, after weeks upon weeks of insomniac nights scratched with thoughts as heavy as his eyelids now, he feels the urge. He’s grateful for it; a relieved sigh parts his lips and it’s when he realizes that Archie’s not even watching anymore. He’s sleeping on his shoulder; and as he slipped the both of them in a more comfortable position, he sees the bright glow of the weary ring of string around his pinky glow.

He finally says it out loud, hopes he’s awake, as his eyelids fall—

_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> so if you don't know who clementine and joel were, they're characters from a movie, "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind". it's one heartbreaking movie and really nice too, maybe you should check it out. // the line "the fault is not in our stars" comes from the famous lines that cassius from shakespeare's julius caesar says.  
> -  
> hope you liked that and leave a kudo or comment if you did~  
> -  
> hmu on mah [ tumblr](https://chrischaa.tumblr.com/)  
> if ya wanna scream about jarchie or beronica or anything else basically


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